The Distance of the Dead
by Lizwontcry
Summary: Crossover with CSI. Melinda and Sara have something in common--their ghosts refuse to leave them alone. When they are brought together by spirits of their loved ones, they go on a journey to find out if love can survive death. Character death.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - I have no business starting another WIP when I'm already knee-deep in two others. But this one lives inside of my head and won't leave me alone, so what can you do? This is also a labor of love, because I have no idea if there's anyone out there who watch both of these shows. But I'm pretty emotionally attached to both of them, so that's me. I hope you enjoy, and I would LOVE to hear ANY feedback you might have. Thank you so much for reading!**

_"The distance that the dead have gone  
Does not at first appear—  
Their coming back seems possible  
For many an ardent year."_  
- Emily Dickinson -

* * *

In Grandview, Pennsylvania, and Las Vegas, Nevada, two women were on a mission to forget.

They made dinner for themselves. They enjoyed a glass of wine, or two or three. When the dishes were clean, they plopped themselves in front of the TV or the computer to do something mindless--anything to numb the pain. Both of them endured their nightly phone calls from worried colleagues and friends.

One of the women made herself get up and go to the bathroom, where she rifled through her medicine cabinet to find her all-important bottle of pills. She swallowed a few of them without any water, and 30 minutes later, she was asleep. The other woman made herself get up and go to the bathroom too, but instead of finding pills, she took a shower. She dried her hair and haphazardly put on some clothes. Even though she may as well have been sleep walking, she turned off the TV and left the house, on the way to a job that no longer gave her any peace of mind the way it did before.

Even though these women didn't know each other, they both had one very important thing in common--their ghosts would not leave them alone.

* * *

Before Melinda Gordon went to sleep in her too-empty bed, she looked around her sparse bedroom and sighed. "Jim, I'm going to bed. If you're hiding in the closet again, just tell me so I know where you are."

A beat.

A minute later Jim shamefully says, "I'm in the closet."

Melinda sighs again. "Fine. I love you, good night."

"I'll love you forever, Melinda," Jim says, barely above a whisper.

"Tell me about it," Melinda mutters.

It's not that she didn't love her husband. She knew for a fact that she would never love a man half as much as she loved Jim Clancy. He was her first love, her last love, her only love. There was no one in the world who could ever comfort her like he did. He was an amazing husband, and an amazing person. But he was also dead, which made things just a little too complicated to deal with sometimes.

* * *

Melinda had what some people called a gift, but what she now considered a curse. She could see ghosts. Ghosts came to her, interacted with her, asked her for help. It was her calling, and she knew that from a very young age. But she never thought that her husband would take advantage of that in the afterlife. He needed to go into the light, and he stubbornly refused to do it. So for the last 6 months, she wasn't able to move on with her life; to mourn the passing of her husband like every other widow got the chance to do.

Jim died when a stray bullet from an angry wife, meant for her husband, hit him in the back. He was at the scene to do what he always did as an EMT--save lives. And instead, his own life was taken. To add insult to injury, he was in a coma for 4 days before he flatlined. Melinda sat by his side and never left, not once. And right before the nurses came rushing in, he woke her up.

"Hey, you're awake," she said sleepily, smiling at her now healthy husband. In the back of her mind, she knew something wasn't right there. Coma patients don't just suddenly spring up and act like everything is normal. But she wanted to believe that he was fine, so she did.

"Melinda...I will love you forever," he said, struggling to get the words out. "Don't remember me like this. Don't remember...the end. Remember the good times. Remember the love. Don't remember the end."

And then everything went dark, and life as she knew it would never be the same. He'd never hold her when she woke up from yet another nightmare. She would never get to hold his hand on their semi-regular walks around the neighborhood. They'd never clean the kitchen together again after dinner, one of her favorite activities to do with her husband because they'd always talk, always find little ways to flirt while loading the dishwasher and stealing a spoonful of ice cream before bed. They'd never talk about the dreams they shared together again, either. Jim always wanted to go the med school; now he'd never get that chance. And the baby they'd been dreaming about, planning for, wanting more than anything...they'd never get that chance either.

It took him a few days to appear to her as a ghost. She wondered when it would happen, and had mixed emotions about it. She desperately wanted to see her husband again, but she wanted him to find the light and cross over even more. Jim deserved that peace of mind. He deserved to find his brother again; his father. Melinda hoped her husband would make that choice, but as soon as she heard his voice again, she knew he didn't.

She was at the shop, doing mindless inventory. Delia wanted Melinda to take some time off; go see her mother, do anything but the daily routines that would only inevitably remind her of Jim. Melinda refused, of course. She had obligations, after all. And if nothing else, she always stuck to her obligations.

One second she was staring at a junky picture frame that couldn't have cost more than 5.00, the next second she was staring into the eyes of her dead husband.

"Jim! You scared me half to..."

"Death," he finished for her, and smiled. "I always knew how to make an entrance, didn't I?"

"Where...where have you been the last couple of days?" She asked timidly. Really, what does one say to the husband they thought was lost forever?

"Around. I made sure my mother wasn't falling to pieces. My brother tried to get me to join him in the light. You know, the usual."

"Jim...why _don't_ you join him? You need to go into the light. It's important; you know that."

"I can't leave you, Melinda," he said, an eerie look in his eye. "I can't do it, and I won't."

He held his hand out to her. Not thinking, she reached out to grab it. She wanted more than anything to feel his touch again. Of course, she was only touching air. It was even more heartbreaking than she could ever imagine.

And since Melinda wasn't ready for him to go, she didn't try very hard to convince him to leave. But as the days and then weeks went by, she started to feel a little crazy. Sometimes she wasn't sure if it was Jim's ghost she was seeing, or if she was just making him up to make herself feel better. That was the problem with being the only person in town who saw ghosts--she couldn't ask anyone else if they saw him, too.

On the darkest days, and there were many, she let her thoughts go to places she'd never dream of going before. She thought about ending it all so she could be with him, wherever he was. They could spend eternity together and all her worries would be over. But she'd snap out of that pretty quickly; after all, she still had work to do before her days were over. She had people to help, and she took that seriously. Still, sometimes the thought comforted her when there was nothing else that could.

They still had long talks, even though Jim started fading in and out after a while. They still went on walks together, although they didn't get to hold hands and she'd have to quickly stop talking when the neighbors were around so they wouldn't think she lost her mind. He'd hang around when she cleaned the kitchen after dinner, watching her, wanting to talk to her and yet not knowing what to say. It was maddening, and after a while she knew it had to stop.

So when she woke up in the middle of a dark, rainy night to find him staring at her, she sighed deeply. He smiled when he saw she was awake, and frowned when he realized she was unhappy.

"What's wrong, Mel? Anything I can do?"

She smiled sadly. "What would you be able to do? You're a ghost, Jim. You can't do anything."

"Just tell me what's bothering you, and I'll go haunt the crap out of whoever is behind it."

"Jim...why won't you go into the light?"

"Because you're not there," he said simply. "I made a vow four years ago, and I plan to stick to it."

_"Till death do we part,"_ she said. "That's how it goes. I know it's hard, but Jim, you're killing me. I can't live like this, it's too hard! I need to be able to grieve!"

"You don't have to grieve, Mel! I'm right here. I'll always be here. I don't have to leave, you know that."

She sighed again. It seemed like she was sighing a lot lately.

"But I can't touch you," she said. "I can't _feel_ you. I would do anything to feel you again, but I can't. I can't see you anymore, Jim, it's killing me. Please...please just leave me be. If you won't go into the light, just please go somewhere else."

He looked hurt. No, not hurt--he looked crushed. And she felt for him, she truly did. But this couldn't happen anymore. She had to move on with her life.

"Okay. Okay, Mel, if that's what you want, then I'm gone. Just remember--"

"You'll love me forever. I will love you until the day I die, Jim. But please go now, okay?"

He disappeared. And she cried herself to sleep.

But Melinda still felt his presence. She knew he didn't leave, because sometimes she saw just a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye. He was really trying to stay out of her way, but she could tell he was truly determined to never let go. So she dealt with it. It was something she was just going to have to get used to, because Jim Clancy wasn't going to leave her alone. And when she knew he was there, and when she knew _he knew_ she knew he was there, she'd talk to him and he'd reluctantly answer her.

So with Jim in the closet, Melinda drifted off to sleep yet again knowing that her ghost would haunt her whether she wanted him to or not.

* * *

More than 2,000 miles away, Sara Sidle was having problems of her own.

For one thing, she felt like she was under constant surveillance. Every time she entered a room, wherever she went, someone would look away. Not everyone, but that one uncomfortable person would look away. They would avert their eyes so that they didn't have to look at Sara. It made her feel like she was being watched by everyone in Las Vegas, and she didn't like it.

Gil's death had been on the news, and so was Sara when they interviewed her after his funeral. When he went after Under-sheriff McKeen for the death of Warrick Brown, everyone should have known there would be consequences. But no one could have known that Gil would have to lose his life, just like Warrick did, in order for McKeen to go down. McKeen shot Gil just like he shot Warrick, and Gil died instantly. There was no coma. Sara wasn't around to hold him in her arms one last time. She never got to tell him how he changed her; how he saved her from a life of tragedy when she was sure nothing else could. And what happened? More tragedy. It was a constant in her life, and Sara almost came to depend on it. But she was never prepared for her life with him to end so quickly after it just began. They'd only been married a week before he died. One week, and Sara was now a widow.

When she came back from San Francisco for Warrick's funeral, she wasn't sure how long she'd stay. But when she saw what a wreck Grissom was, she decided to stay as long as he needed. And after the funeral when he suggested they go to the courthouse to finally make it official, she agreed quickly. What was there to think about? She could keep chasing ghosts for the rest of her life, or she could marry Gil Grissom and start living in the future instead of the past. It was an easy decision.

And now she was alone. Again. She thought she'd never have to be alone, after it took such a long time for them to get their act together. Now she was regretting every second they didn't spend together. She should have gone after him more aggressively when she first got to Vegas. And when he said no to her dinner invitation a few years later, she should have done a better job talking him into it. And when he pinned her down against that bloody sheet a few months after that, she should have made a move instead of over-talking the way she always did. She should have done a lot of things, but instead, they had three years together. In those three years, she spent some time from him trying to get herself together, and he spent time on sabbaticals or miniature killers or whatever the hell else he was thinking about instead of her.

And now, a month later...God, it was such a cliché, but she was late. She was late, and the test was positive, and now she was going to be a widow _and_ a mother. They weren't even trying for a baby; they'd just gotten married, for crying out loud. It wasn't fair. There were so many thoughts coming in and out of her head all the time. She never knew what to do with them. Would this baby be a constant reminder of the love she'd never have again? Should she give it up for adoption? Abortion even crossed her mind a few times, but she knew she couldn't do that to Grissom's baby. He would have been so happy if he knew he was going to be a father. Surprised, but happy. And it just wasn't fair.

No one knew about her pregnancy yet. She wasn't going to tell anyone until she had to. Still, Sara couldn't help but think that's why people looked away when she entered a room. They knew she was pregnant, and nobody knew how to deal with that. Obviously that was just paranoia, but it was what Sara felt and she couldn't shake it off.

"I don't get it," Sara told Catherine Willows when they went to breakfast after a long, miserable shift. "I'm the one who suffered the loss of my husband, yet they're the ones who look away. What's up with that, Cath? What's wrong with people?"

Catherine, who had certainly endured her share of loss over the years, nodded with understanding.

"They do it because they don't know what to say. They do it because they don't know that just acknowledging you and letting you know they're sorry about what happened is enough for a lifetime of small talk."

"Does it ever stop?" Sara asked meekly.

"I don't think it does," Catherine said. They both sat for a moment, contemplating the mess that was now their lives. Catherine had her own problems now, with having to run a department that now had 2 heartbreaking losses in the last month alone. Not to mention she was also a widow and had a teenage girl to worry about.

* * *

Sara thought about going back to California to be with her mom. They had a nice time while she was there, and if she ever needed her mother at all, it was now. But the lab needed her more, and she didn't want to let Catherine down.

But there was something else. There was something in Vegas holding her back, and she could only identify it as a _feeling._ She'd never tell anyone, but she swore she could still feel Grissom. He was everywhere. She could feel him when she woke up, before she went to sleep, when she was driving to the lab, when she was processing yet another car. Sometimes she was sure she could smell him. And on one hand, it was comforting to know he was still around, watching over her. It was nice knowing that even in death, he wanted to be with her. But it also made her feel crazy; like the grief was covering her like a blanket and she couldn't see clearly anymore.

A clear sign, to her anyway, that he was still around: every evening when she woke up to start another day, she'd see a ladybug. Every single day. The first one she found was on her toothbrush. She didn't get to brush her teeth that morning because she had to get a new one, but she kept the old one because she was so intrigued by the ladybug. And every day after that, she'd find another one. This was a sign from Grissom, she was sure of it. What she wasn't sure of was why. Why couldn't he just let her grieve in peace? She spent so much of her life chasing after him, and now he was spending his death chasing her? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair, and it didn't make any sense.

Every morning, Sara would cry herself to sleep, knowing that when she woke up, there would be ladybugs.

* * *

These two women would soon cross paths. They would do so without knowing the other could offer them an unusual kind of comfort--the comfort of knowing what it feels like to be haunted by the love of their lives, and the deaths of those who left them behind.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - I know, it's been a while. La la la, excuses. I wrote this at work today, mostly to get last night's episode of CSI out of my brain. Also, I'm participating in Nanowrimo this month and probably should have used these words for my word count of the day, but what can you do. This is chapter 2 of 3. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Sara sat straight up in bed, clutching her stomach with both hands. She was too early in her pregnancy to feel the baby kicking, but the baby was doing _something_ in there. For a whole minute, Sara was exhaustingly happy. The baby was alive inside of her, making her feel for the first time in weeks that she wasn't completely and truly alone. But then the movements stopped, and that calm, familiar ache settled over her again.

The first few weeks after Gil died, she felt his presence everywhere. It had been equal parts frustrating and amazing. Amazing because she knew, knew in her heart it was him. It was his spirit, and it wouldn't leave her alone. She felt so lucky that he was still taking care of her, even in death.

But it was also frustrating because she wanted to grieve. It would seem like grieving would come easy to her when it came to Gil Grissom, because most of the time in between meeting him at the Forensics Academy Conference and his tragic death 10 years later was spent grieving his hesitation to be in a relationship with her. But back then, it was still possible, and then it ultimately happened. Now she'd never have that possibility again. He was gone. His spirit was gone. Her heart was gone.

Sighing deeply, she put her hands back on her stomach. When she felt no movement, she closed her eyes and willed herself back to sleep. She didn't dream about Gil.

* * *

There were ants in the cupboard. She found bees in the garage. Once, there was even a lightning bug that only appeared when she turned off all the lights. And now there were fruit flies in the refrigerator, buzzing around the strawberries she was looking forward to for breakfast.

"Damn it!" Melinda cried out for the third time that morning. "Why is this happening?!"

Melinda did not like bugs of any kind. She could deal with spirits and ghosts and any form of the dead from sun up to sundown, but she could not deal with fruit flies and ants and anything else that could buzz at any time of day. If Jim were here--really here, not just the ghost who hid in closets so he wouldn't make her mad--he would take care of this insect problem. Setting traps, spraying with bug spray, cursing at them as loudly as her voice could go, nothing was taking care of this awful problem. And for the millionth time in months, Melinda wondered why Jim had to be taken away from her.

There were other women in the world who suffered a loss like this; millions of them. Even her best friend and trusted employee Delia had gone through the same thing, and she even had a kid at the time. Delia's husband was murdered in cold blood, and Jim's death was accidental. Even knowing that it could have been worse, Melinda still felt like she was the only person in the world who could possibly know what it was like to lose her soul mate.

In some ways, maybe she was. Most people didn't have to deal with the fact that their dead husbands wouldn't stop (refused to stop, in fact) haunting them. Even though Jim tried to stay out of her way most of the time, she knew he was there. She knew he wanted to rid the refrigerator of the fruit flies and make sure they couldn't come back, but he wasn't able to. It was more frustrating than she was ready to deal with, and yet that was exactly what she had to do. There were still spirits to cross over, antiques to sell, and life to live.

Melinda was giving it all she had, but these bugs...these damn bugs were popping up everywhere these days, and she couldn't figure out why. Of course, she had the sinking suspicion that this was the work of a spirit, but usually these spirits wanted to talk to her; wanted her to see them, and this one, if it was in fact a spirit, was still in hiding. She hoped it would happen soon, because she was really getting tired of these damn bugs.

The last straw was when she was enjoying her last glass of wine for the night. She'd just settled down in front of the TV for another episode of "Let's Escape the Reality of Melinda's Life" when she saw it. The piercing scream she let out could probably wake the dead, much less her neighbors, but she couldn't help it--there was a roach on the loose. Much worse, a flying roach.

When it landed on her hand, she jumped up and found the telephone book that was just delivered to her doorstep earlier in the day. She aimed it at the evil roach, and heard a satisfying splat as both the roach and the book flew to the floor. When she was sure it was dead, she sighed deeply and did something she was trying to avoid with all her willpower.

"Jim? Jim, where are you? Are you in this house right now?"

A beat. 2 beats. Another bea--

"I'm here," came an almost imperceptible voice. It came from the guest bedroom...the empty guest bedroom that they'd been slowly making into a nursery when he died.

"Come out, please," she said. He did just that. God, he looked good, even as a spirit. Sure, he was pale and she could almost see right through him, but he still looked like her Jim.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi, Mel. It looks like you're having some bug problems," he said. "But at least you got some use out of that phonebook, huh?"

They both chuckled, and Melinda's heart hurt so bad she almost felt it rip from her body.

"Thank you for staying out of the way, it makes things so much easier. Have you, um, thought about the light?"

"I have," he said. "I'm not ready."

She knew the answer before she asked. It never hurt to try, though.

"Fair enough. Hey, I have a question. Have there been any ghosts hanging around here lately? Someone who might be trying to send me a message with these bugs? Because it's driving me crazy, and the sooner I can get them into the light, the better."

"Yes, actually. He doesn't talk much, but I've seen him around, just waiting to show himself to you. I've tried to tell him that you'll see him whenever he's ready, but...I think he's kind of an awkward guy, in life and in death."

Melinda sighed deeply.

"Well, if you see him again, tell him to stop with the bugs. If he was trying to make a point, whatever, I get it. Now put up or shut up, right?"

Jim laughed. "Ah, Mel, you could always make me laugh."

She wanted to touch him. She wanted to reach over and touch him and feel him and taste him one more time, but she knew if she tried, she'd only touch air. Still, that air was all she wanted at that moment. So she turned away, hoping he'd understand. When she turned around a second later, he was gone. Even in death, Jim knew how to please his wife.

* * *

It took one more week for Gil Grissom to finally appear to Melinda. In that time, there were more wasps, ladybugs and fireflies than she could count. It would make sense that she get used to these creatures, but she never did.

In grand Grissom tradition, he saved the best for last. It was in the basement at Same As It Never Was, where she was used to getting visits from her spirits. Ghosts liked basements, she found.

So it came to no surprise that she saw a spider crawl across the trunk she was hauling to a corner of the basement. She tried to stay calm because, after all, it was just one spider. But then there was another one, and then dozens more, and they were all crawling in her direction. So she did what came naturally--screamed bloody murder. Melinda was never so glad Delia was across the street getting coffee; she didn't want to deal with having to explain the bugs to her always-skeptical friend.

"Okay, seriously, whoever you are, get out here now! No more bugs! They're gross and ugly and serve no purpose--"

"Now, that's just not true," came a disembodied voice. _Ah, finally,_ Melinda thought.

"Bees pollinate flowers, flies help speed up decomposition, spiders act as a food source to other animals as well as help control the population of other insects. In fact, even the cicadas that come out once every 17 years--"

"I don't mean to interrupt, but what is it with you and insects? Did you have an ant farm growing up?"

Finally, Gil Grissom came out of the shadows. Melinda stared at this man who'd been causing her so much frustration lately. He was an older man with a graying beard, dark hair, and tired eyes. He looked like he needed a hug. Melinda wished she could offer that kind of support, but her gifts didn't extend to embracing the dead.

"I am--was--an entomologist," he said. Finally Melinda understood, and gave him a little chuckle for his efforts. "And yes, I did have an ant farm."

"Oh. Well, that makes sense," she said. "Now can you tell me why you're here?"

He looked down at his feet, and she waited patiently.

"I'm not sure how I ended up here. I died in Las Vegas. For a while I was with Sara even though she couldn't see me. And then...I don't know. It's just a blur."

"Okay, well, let me introduce myself. I'm Melinda Gordon, and I help spirits cross over. So I'm guessing that you're here because you have something you still need to talk about with this Sara. Is that right?"

He nodded sadly.

"She was my wife. We were married for a week before I died. I can't go, Mrs. Gordon." She cringed at the "Mrs."

"It's Ms. now, I guess," she said. "My husband died recently."

"Well, maybe that's why I ended up here," he said wisely. "Maybe you were meant to help me...and Sara."

"Wait, does Sara live in Vegas, too?"

Grissom nodded.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't really do this thing long distance..."

He frowned.

"Okay, all right. Give me the information, I'll go tomorrow."

Of course she'd do it. She would never turn down anyone just because they didn't live in Grandview. And he was right, this Sara probably did need her help if she was anything like Melinda, which she obviously was.

Grissom looked relieved, but she could tell there was still something else on his mind. So she waited. And waited. And waited. And finally he said, "There's something else you should know."

"Okay?"

"Sara is pregnant," he said. "She's pregnant, and she needs to know how proud I am of her right now. I can't go until she knows that, Ms. Gordon. Do you think you can help me?"

Melinda's face softened. This Sara was pregnant and lost her husband, and suddenly Melinda didn't feel like the only widow in the world anymore.

"Of course," she said. "We'll do it tomorrow."

24 hours later, Melinda and Grissom were in Las Vegas, ready to talk to the grieving Sara Sidle.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N - It's unforgiveable how much time it's taken me to update this, I realize that. But here it is, and I hope you enjoy. I thought this was only going to be 3 chapters, but there's still one left in me. Thanks for reading, and again, sorry for the redonkulous absence.**

* * *

Despite telling Grissom that she would find Sara as soon as possible, Melinda was still reluctant to travel such a long way. Usually she didn't have to go very far to use this gift of hers; there were enough ghosts in Grandview to keep her busy as it was. She didn't like the idea of going so far out of town, but this Grissom guy, he was persistent.

He must have known she wasn't anxious to leave, because when she woke up the next morning, Melinda found a roach in her Special K. Upon finding this unpleasant visitor in her breakfast, Melinda did what any normal person would do--she shrieked like a school girl. Then she calmly rose from the table, threw the bowl away (knowing she'd never be able to use it again) and shouted, "Grissom!"

Grissom showed up out of thin air, as most ghosts usually do. He looked rather guilty, actually. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I'm just anxious to find her. There's things she needs to know."

Melinda sighed, giving up. "Okay, I'll get a flight as soon as possible. But until then, no more bugs, okay? I just--I really can't deal with it."

"OK," Grissom said. "Fair enough." He disappeared, and Melinda breathed a sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another form disappear as well. It was Jim, of course. He was checking up on her, watching her, protecting her. She sighed again, so conflicted in her emotions.

In her mind, the rational side of herself wished he would just move on and find the light. He couldn't stay earth-bound forever, and it was just time to go. It was so hard knowing he was still around, yet they could never be together again the way they were before. Couldn't he see how hard it was for her? How incredibly sad and heartbreaking the whole situation was turning out to be? There was nobody like Jim. And there never would be anyone like him again.

But in her heart, this irrational side of herself couldn't deny that his presence comforted her on the long, dark, lonely nights. She would remember their nights together--dinner, holding hands and watching TV or talking about their future; talking about how badly they wanted a child, then ending the night by making love and falling asleep satisfied and happy. Remembering these nights made her so sad, but knowing that he was still around, still watching out for her, still loving her...she liked that feeling. It was comfortable. Sometimes she'd break her own rule and talk to him, if she was feeling really empty. But most of the time, she tried not to acknowledge him. It was just easier that way.

Shaking it off, Melinda went online and booked a round trip ticket to Las Vegas. It wasn't cheap, but she didn't have it in her to refuse someone in need. Besides, she felt oddly close to Sara even though she didn't know anything about her. But they had one important thing in common--they both recently lost the loves of their lives. That was all the information Melinda needed to go the distance for the dead.

* * *

10 hours later, Melinda was in a rental car with the ghost of an anxious entomologist riding shotgun. Grissom told Melinda that Sara probably would be getting ready for work when they showed up at her door since she worked the graveyard shift. He also told her that Sara was a scientist; a very logical and reasonable person. She probably wasn't going to take too kindly to what Melinda wanted to say, at least not at first.

"Is there anything you can tell me that I can say when she has her doubts? Maybe something that only the two of you could possibly know?" She was used to people doubting her, but Sara sounded like she was going to be even more of a challenge.

Grissom thought about it, nodded and told her a few things. She smiled as he talked. This man really loved his Sara. She said as much, and then it was his turn to smile.

"She was a student of mine in the beginning, and she was so different from the rest of the students--so focused, so intense, so fascinated. And fascinating. We would have the longest talks together after class. I didn't pursue her for a number of reasons, but I never stopped thinking about her. Then she came to work for my team and I'll admit I didn't handle it very well. Sara was so inquisitive and curious and I didn't want to ruin her illusions, so I made some mistakes. A lot of mistakes. But it was never because I didn't love her. I loved her from the start. It was just too complicated."

He stopped talking and zoned out for a second. Melinda wondered if he had been this talkative when he was alive. She was guessing no, since he claimed there was still so much left unsaid between he and Sara.

"So what happened to change things between you?" Melinda asked.

"I don't know exactly," he said. "I think she was tired of waiting for me, and I was tired of denying to myself that she was the only woman I could ever imagine being with for the rest of my..."

"Life," Melinda finished for him.

"Right," he said sadly. "Then one of our closest friends was kidnapped and very nearly died, and we realized that life was short. So we did something about it. It wasn't easy, but we made it work."

They were quiet for the rest of the short trip. Melinda had never been to Las Vegas before and was fascinated by the glowing, glittery city. It certainly was more vibrant than Grandview. Just thinking about the sheer amount of ghosts that lay under the surface of the town gave her the chills.

When they arrived at Sara's townhouse, Melinda nervously rang the doorbell. She wasn't sure why she was so nervous--after all, she'd done this thousands of times before. But the distance and the situation were all making an impact this time.

Sara answered the door, looking the same way Melinda felt--tired, weary and sad. Melinda knew she wasn't exactly going to be receptive, so she started talking fast.

"Hello, my name is Melinda Gordon. You don't know me, but, well, I have some things to tell you. It's about your late husband."

Sara looked alarmed. "Gil? What could you possibly tell me about him?"

Before Melinda could answer, Sara said, "Were you one of his students? How did you know him?"

"Well, I didn't, exactly. I'm from Grandview and I didn't actually know him at all." Sara was looking more and more impatient with every word. "But...I know there are things he wants you to know."

Sara sighed. "Oh, so you're a psychic? A ghost hunter? What did my dead husband tell you he wants me to know? I was on the news, which I'm sure you know, so people keep trying to get in touch with me about this. They all claim Grissom contacted them from beyond. Are you going to tell me that he liked bugs? That he was good at his job? That he loved me a lot? I don't need a psychic to tell me that, Melissa. I'm not that desperate, so take your bullshit and leave me alone, please."

Before Sara slammed the door in her face, Melinda said loudly, _"Moby Dick!"_ Grissom, who was looking worried, nodded his approval at this tactic.

Sara hesitated before she opened the door again, even if Melinda had said the right words.

"He wanted to reread _Moby Dick_ before he died. He wanted to see the rainforests again. Um, something about a chess tournament, I think. And he wanted to be able to say good-bye to the ones he loved. He didn't get to do those things, and he wants you to know...he's sorry."

Sara's face that had seconds ago reflected anger and frustration was now tinged with sadness and curiosity. She wiped a tear from her face before opening the door to let Melinda (and Grissom) inside. She wiped away several more as she led Melinda to a black leather sofa.

"Sorry, pregnancy hormones," Sara said, chuckling.

A huge, drooling Boxer came running through the living room to see what was going on.

"Hank!" Grissom said happily. "Oh, I've missed my boy."

Hank chose that moment to look directly at Grissom and unleash a furious round of anxious barking. Grissom looked unnerved.

"Hank!" Sara cried. "What is wrong with you?! He never does this. Lately he's been more protective of me, though." She took him by the collar and ushered him closer to her, where he dutifully sat and stared at the ghostly form of his owner for the rest of the visit.

Sara offered Melinda some tea, which she declined. Sara took a sip of her own tea, then cleared her throat.

"Okay, well, you've said the right things so far. Tell me more. I'm usually more of a tougher sell than this, but being pregnant has made me a little...I don't know." She looked like she was searching for the words.

"I know," Melinda said gently. "I understand."

"First of all, how do you know these things? _Are_ you a psychic?"

"More like a medium, really. I see spirits. Usually they come to me when they have unfinished business. Your husband is very persistent. He also really likes bugs."

"Have you been seeing an abundance of bugs lately, too?" Sara asked.

"Oh, yes. The latest was a roach in my cereal, which was not pleasant, I have to say."

Sara wiped another tear away. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually a crier. But every time I see another bug...there's butterflies in the kitchen, ants on my alarm clock, and then there's the ladybugs. There's ladybugs everywhere I look. I feel like he's here with me. I feel like he's trying to send me a message. And while I appreciate the sentiment, it's driving me crazy. He's everywhere, and yet he's not here at all."

Melinda was, needless to say, familiar with this feeling.

"I lost my husband recently too," Melinda said, unsure if she should tell Sara her sad story. "The same thing has been happening to me. Only...I can see him, too. Talk to him. Hear him. They're here because they love us and don't want to move on."

"But I want him to move on!" Sara said. "I know he loves me, and I know he was taken from me too early, but him being here all the time is not helping. It would be so much easier just knowing that he's gone. God, he was so stubborn, you know? Always doing things his way."

"I don't really know him very well, but I get that feeling," Melinda said, smiling. "Um, he also said that he loved you from the beginning, when you were his student, but he didn't want to ruin your curiosity and inquisitiveness. I'm sure you know that, though."

Sara nodded. "He has told me that before, but it's always nice to hear again. Is he...is he here right now?"

"He is," Melinda said, seeing Grissom in the corner of her eye. He was being amazingly quiet for such a demanding ghost.

"Does he know about the baby?" Sara said quietly. Melinda's heart broke for her.

"I know," Grissom said. "I was at Desert Palm when the doctor told her."

"He knows. He was at the hospital when you found out."

"What does he think…about this?"

It would have seemed like a strange question for an outsider looking in. Gil Grissom was dead, he couldn't think anything about it, right? And what if he did think something about it, what good would it do now? But Melinda knew that it mattered. She knew what Sara was asking. And she hoped Grissom would give her the answer she wanted.

"I think it's amazing," he said. "I think you're going to be a beautiful, happy mother. I think our child will be the smartest, most interesting, most curious kid around. Because they will take after their mother, and you are all of those things times a thousand."

Melinda relayed his message to Sara.

"Wow," Sara said. "I wasn't expecting to hear that when I woke up today."

"I think he has more to tell you," Melinda said. "At least I hope so, since he made me come all the way out here to tell you about it."

They both laughed, acknowledging the strangeness of the situation.

Sara sat patiently while Melinda listened to what Grissom wanted to tell her. After all the years of giving messages from ghosts, Melinda had honed her listening skills as much as one possibly could. As he talked, she wiped a few tears from her own face. She was pretty sure, from what both and he and Sara said, that he was never this talkative alive. Not for the first time, she wondered how death seemed to hone so many people's communication skills so well.

"He says...he says he's sorry for all the years he put his feelings for you aside. All of those years he could have had with you instead of playing games; of denying the truth of what the two of you were always meant to be. He says he's devastated that he won't get to teach his child about bugs and about life and about love. He has so much to teach now that he's gone. And he knows that you're going to be a good mother, and he urges you to be strong and courageous and not be frustrated or sad that he's not here with you. His spirit will always be with you, always watching over you and the baby."

Sara was having a hard time keeping it together, and frankly Melinda didn't know why she wasn't curling into a ball on the floor, sobbing. Sara was stronger than her, that was for sure.

"Am I allowed to tell him something? I don't know--I don't know how this works," Sara said, wiping her eyes with a Kleenex.

"Of course. He's here with us, he can hear you."

"Okay, well, I want him--you. I want _you_ to know that I take responsibility for the early years of us, too. It's not all your fault. I was so smitten with you that I let it affect my work, and that made things uncomfortable. It just wasn't meant to be yet, and I've come to know and appreciate that. We had 3 years together, didn't we? They weren't always great; there were challenges. But we overcame a lot of odds. And now we'll have a child who will always know his or her daddy was a good man who loved me, who made a difference in people's lives, who will always be remembered by the friends he made along the way. Our baby will have Uncle Greg and Nick and Jim and Aunt Catherine to teach him or her things that I couldn't. I'm not worried; I know I can do this. I just never wanted to do it without you."

Melinda came over and sat next to Sara, putting her arm around her. She usually tried not to do that in these situations, but the woman clearly needed someone to be there for her. Sara smiled gratefully, and Melinda handed her a tissue. After blowing her nose and throwing the tissue away, Sara continued.

"And I want you to know, Gil, that you taught me so many things. The lecture you gave at the Forensics Academy Conference was the only one that interested me, because you had such a passion for what you were talking about. You made me see it was okay to enjoy my work and what I care about doing. You made me feel like being a geek or a dork wasn't such a bad thing.

"And then later, when our friendship was slowly growing into more, you were the only one who paid attention when I was calling out for help. You listened to me; you heard about my past and my parents and you didn't run. You made me see that what I felt was normal, and you helped me move on with my life."

Sara sniffed, then apologized to Melinda. "I just have so much to say, you know?"

"I know. Please continue, I'm in no hurry."

Sara took a deep breath, then continued. "I thought we figured it all out, and then Natalie happened. I know you understood that I had to leave, and I don't regret it. I was doing it for us, you know. I didn't want you to have to deal with my broken shell. It had to happen that way to make me realize what--or who--was really important to me. And it means so much that we were able to get married before you…died. I will treasure this child with everything I have in my body and myself, because they will be half of you. You taught me so much, and I'll teach the baby everything you taught me. It was true what I said, Gil. You will always be my one and only, I will miss you with every beat of my heart, and our life together was the only home I ever knew."

Melinda looked at Grissom, who was now looking up at the ceiling. She knew he was seeing the light now, and it was only a matter of seconds before he was gone.

"Tell her she has a beautiful soul, and our baby will, too. Tell her that she was my last thought before I died, that it was her face and her heart and her life that flashed before my eyes when I took my last breath. Tell her that I'm so proud of her, so full of pride. And tell her that she will always, always be loved."

And then there was no more Grissom.

"He's gone," Melinda said. "He went into the light." She told Sara what else he said before he disappeared. Sara cried in her arms until she noticed she looked at her watch and realized it was time to go to work.

"You can't call in?" Melinda asked. Damn, this woman was stronger than anyone she knew.

"I could. They would understand. But doing this job; speaking for the people who can no longer speak for themselves...it's what keeps me going right now. When the baby is born, I'm going to move back to San Francisco to be with my mom, who wants to help. That's a really long story that I won't bore you with, by the way. But for now, while I still have a chance, I want to be there for the people with no voice."

"Well, good luck with the baby," Melinda said. She wrote her number on a stray piece of paper she found in her purse. "And call me if you need anything. I know how it feels to be haunted by the love of your life."

Sara smiled gratefully. "Good luck with your own ghost."

"Thanks, I need it."

They hugged one more time, and Melinda headed out to the rental car. She knew when she got back to Grandview, she and Jim were going to have a chat. Melinda couldn't handle this anymore. Jim needed the light. It was the best thing for both of them.

Before she turned the key in the ignition, Melinda noticed the ladybug on the dashboard. She shook her head and smiled, and headed back home to her favorite ghost.


	4. Chapter 4

**This chapter is pretty much all Ghost Whisperer with a dash of CSI.**

This is the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy. I've really gotten into Ghost Whisperer lately and I love where they took the last season. I like what they did on the show much better than the way I wrote it here. Who could have seen that coming? Anyway, thanks for reading, and sorry it took so effin' long to complete. Feedback and concrit is always appreciated.

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The empty house that Melinda returned to served as a grim reminder of how empty her life was about to become. And it wasn't even because Jim wouldn't be there, waiting for her anxiously to get back from Vegas. He _would_ be there, actually. And that was exactly what she needed to put a stop to, because she couldn't--wouldn't--take it anymore.

As she reluctantly stepped inside and put her keys on the table, her phone buzzed. She had a text message from Sara.

_Thanks for your help. I think I'll actually be able to sleep tonight knowing what I know now. And good luck with your own ghost. We all deserve a little peace. - SS. _ Melinda smiled sadly. At least there was one woman out there who understood what she was going through.

After putting her overnight bag down on an empty chair, turning some lights on and pouring a much needed glass of wine, Melinda sighed deeply. She thought about putting this off tonight; maybe putting it off forever. Who would it really hurt if Jim stayed here? And would anyone really need to know about it? She could hide Jim in here the rest of her life, the two of them talking and laughing and nothing ever had to be different. What was the harm in that?

She knew the answer. Of course she knew the answer. Guiding people to the light was what her life was about, there was no way she could turn her back on that to keep her husband here for all eternity. There was a reason he had to leave. The light was something she didn't completely understand, only that it was supposed to be beautiful; the last resting place for those souls who were done with Earth. Someday she'd be there, too. And she hoped Jim would be waiting.

Melinda tapped her fingers on the table, counting to 10, counting to 20, counting to 100. Before she got to 101, she made herself--forced herself--to say, "Jim? Are you here?"

It took him a few seconds, but then he appeared before her as if he'd always been there. And, well, in Melinda's eyes, he always had.

"Of course I'm here, Mel. I didn't go anywhere."

"Hi," she said softly. "It's good to see you."

He smiled sadly. Instinctively, he leaned in to kiss her. She did the same, even though she knew with every bone in her body that it was only going to end in disappointment and heartbreak. Her lips connected with air, obviously, and she recoiled in frustration. Jim looked equally frustrated, and it was clear to her that he really would do anything to stay with her, anything at all.

"You have to go, Jim. I can't keep you here, as much as I'd like to."

He sighed and shook his head, but he looked tired, so very tired. She knew all of the excuses and reasons he had for staying were all running out, and that was what hurt him the most.

"Mel, I just...can't. What will happen to you? How can I go knowing there's no one here to protect you?"

She frowned. "How are you going to protect me from the other side, Jim? From the dark spirits? I know how to deal with them, I've had plenty of practice."

"I know, but..."

She cut him off, asking the question that had been on her mind since he first appeared. "Jim, have you seen your brother? Has he talked to you?"

"Yes. I saw Dan. He...wanted me to come with him. To the light."

"And your dad?"

"I didn't see him, but Dan said he was waiting for me."

Melinda smiled. She tried to keep smiling, for him.

"You have to go. The light wants you, Dan wants you, your dad wants you. Think of how many things you guys have to talk about, Jim. Think about the memories. This is your chance! I don't know what the light is like, this is your chance to find out for me. And someday, I'll be with you again. It won't seem like such a long time."

Jim looked thoughtful, which gave Melinda hope.

"But listen to this, Mel...I heard about something. Something I could do to stick around. What if I go to the hospital and find someone who's on the edge of dying. And right before they do, I can step in and--"

"Stop, Jim. Don't say it, don't even think it. You can't do that, it's not right. I'm already on the hit list of dark spirits everywhere, and when they find out you did that, all hell would break loose. You can't mess with fate like that, Jim. It's so romantic and thoughtful of you to want to do that for me, but do this for me instead: go to the light."

Jim sighed; a ghostly sigh that sent shivers down her spine. But he looked resigned, and she knew he was going to finally do what she asked, no matter how hard it would be for both of them.

They stared at each other, both thinking of what they were about to lose. Of all the things Melinda knew about the light; the things her grandmother told her, the things that were somehow just instinct, she knew she and Jim would be reunited again someday. But that didn't make this any easier. Jim was her partner, her best friend, her lover, her husband. He was the only person she'd ever met, other than her grandmother, who believed in her 100%. And now she was asking him to leave, because it was the right thing to do.

"Melinda, you know...I mean, I've told you...there's so many things I want to say, and I..."

"Shh," she said, smiling sadly. "I know, Jim. I know. We had an amazing life together, and I'm so glad I found my soulmate so early in my life. There will never be anyone like you. I hope you'll be waiting for me when I make it to the light."

"I will, Mel. It's always been you, it will always be you. I'll see you soon. I love you."

"I love you, too. Forever."

He looked at her one last time, straight into her eyes, into her soul, into her very being. She shivered from the friction it caused in her body. It was like he was inside of her--everything he was and everything he would be was inside of her. Everything he ever felt for her, she felt it in her bones. When he looked away and looked at the light, the part of her that he stood for died inside her, and she felt a sudden rush of complete devastating sadness.

"Don't be sad," she whispered as she saw him look at what must be the light. "Be happy that this is only the beginning. There are no ends for us."

"Only the beginning," he repeated. And then he was gone.

Melinda composed herself, poured another glass of wine and took it upstairs to the bedroom. She closed the curtains, drank her wine, and then spent the rest of night crying until her lungs felt like they were about to collapse. When her whole body was trembling with sadness, when her eyes refused to produce any more tears, and when it felt like it was either time to sleep or to die, she fell into a deep, hypnotizing dream where she was walking hand in hand with Jim, through mountains and oceans and forests, and it was the most amazing dream she ever had. _Someday,_ she thought upon waking up. _Someday we'll be together again._

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**"The distance that the dead have gone  
Does not at first appear—  
Their coming back seems possible  
For many an ardent year." **  
- Emily Dickinson -


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